


should i run a million miles away from every memory of you?

by myrnin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Choking, M/M, elias is always a bastard, forbidden yearning, the beholding is always hungry, using avatar powers during sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24743356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrnin/pseuds/myrnin
Summary: The Tundra has been docked in London for two weeks, three days and seven hours. Elias swears he hasn’t been keeping track, but the surprise visit from a muted, Lonely-shrouded Peter isn't entirely unwelcome.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 5
Kudos: 96





	should i run a million miles away from every memory of you?

The Tundra has been docked in London for two weeks, three days and seven hours. Elias hasn’t been keeping track but the detail is present at the back of his mind as much as any other irrelevant piece of information he has to be aware of. He hasn’t caught sight of Peter since his annoying ship had arrived; not that it mattered.

A resigned sigh had started to build up in his throat and he determinedly stood up, choosing to focus on the thousand other much more important matters racing through his mind. The sun had already almost set and the last pleasantly warm rays of light were filtering through the partially drawn blinds into his apartment - an overall calming atmosphere, though not one he felt like appreciating at the particular moment. His current place was devoid of any character - bought already furnished, the only personal touches were the occasional painting and antiques scattered among the shelves, relics of lives past. Not that the apartment didn’t look lived in; it wasn’t a sterile environment by any means. Elias simply didn’t feel the need to ensure it was ‘cozy’ or whatever the current interior design trends dictated. If anything, he considered the Institute much more of a home than whatever place he was residing in at any given moment.  
And currently, he was more keen on focusing on what arrangements had to be made at his beloved Institute for the next week, month, year. Always something to take care of, always some irritating loose end or uncooperative chess piece which fancied itself far more important than it actually was. 

For all his grandiose, he tended to get lost in his thoughts and his seeing - the Beholding flicking through countless unimportant scenes as he would go about his day. He was perfectly capable of tuning it out and treating it as white noise but during slow evenings like this one, it’s quite relaxing to get to observe other people’s lives - rid his mind of any pestering worries and simply See. He checks in on his Archivist like this quite regularly, making sure to intensify his presence whenever he looks through the nearest set of eyes, barely able to contain a smile when the unsettling feeling of being watched permeates Jon’s office and he shudders involuntarily.

He was used to indulging himself like this in private or the next closest thing to it - as much as he observes everything, so is he observed and scrutinized every second of his life. The comforting gaze of the Beholding is reassuring, a constant reminder that he’s never truly alone. He fixes his hair absentmindedly.

And maybe he indulges himself too much because the next thing he registers after walking into the kitchen is the presence of another person, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. He bristles with surprise and takes in the sight of a scruffy-looking Peter, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, avoiding eye contact as if they had awkwardly ran into each other in the middle of a store rather than whatever this was. Popping into his kitchen on a perfectly pleasant evening with no announcement whatsoever. Typical. He refuses to meet Elias’ eyes, seemingly content with taking in the kitchen; though it’s unlikely he was admiring the marble countertops. Elias frowns despite himself as he looks Peter over but refuses to be made uncomfortable by the sudden appearance and following heavy silence - so he simply steps around the man and heads over to one of the cabinets, already aware his night isn’t going to be as peaceful as he anticipated. Might as well have a drink.

He didn’t need to use his powers to feel the coldness emanating from Peter, though that wasn’t unusual for whenever he returned from the Tundra. Simply the Lonely having a stronger grip on him; he’d seem faded from existence even when he was fully present. Like a grayscale image superimposed on reality, seemingly resistant to any life and color trying to force its way in. And yet those were the rare moments when he seemed properly satisfied and apparently proud of the frankly revolting state he was in. Elias was never a fan but he grew used to it. He’d come around eventually, snapping out of it with some inane comment or utterly pointless recollection of something irrelevant. With a resigned sigh, Elias reached for his wine glasses and turned around to face Peter again. He seemed to still be avoiding direct eye contact but at least now he wasn’t looking in the complete opposite direction of him.

Moments like these did make it hard to remember why he ever agreed to put up with him. The slight irritation at having to alter his plans for the evening and the suffocating silence filling his apartment made him swiftly set down the wine glasses on the countertop with a loud clink and stride over to Peter. He wasn’t in the mood to entertain his pathetic show and standing up on his tiptoes, he roughly grabbed the man’s face with one hand and forced him to meet his eyes, not caring much if he ended up scratching him in the process.

“Peter. If you’ve come here to stand around my kitchen menacingly, I’d much prefer it if you picked another place to sulk. I have better things to do than entertain your nonsense,” he stares directly into his grey eyes, hoping to get his point across swiftly. The state of Peter’s clothes properly registers now that he’s right in front of him and it does seem like he’s still wearing what he had on while on the Tundra. He involuntarily wrinkles his nose in distaste.

Peter holds his gaze but doesn’t seem keen on responding right away. He clears his throat a few times at first and admirably, doesn’t look away.  
“Thought I’d come and say hello,” his voice is rough and raspy from lack of use and despite there being no mocking tone, Elias feels that twinge of irritation in his chest grow stronger. “Must have missed me terribly all by yourself in this gaudy apartment!”

And there it was. The forcibly cheerful tone which he chose to adapt far too often crept in again and Elias held back a snarl, pushing Peter away lightly and taking a step back. He was all too used to hearing it in his incessant monologues and pretend-friendly conversations and he was far from the mood to play along.  
“Get out if you have nothing to offer. I’m busy,” a simple enough half-lie, though one that is most likely noticed by Peter.

“Is that why you took out a wine glass for me as well? Or are you planning to drink from both at once?” he poses it like an innocent question and Elias looks over at the countertop to realize that he did, in fact, put two wine glasses on it. Huh. Must’ve been on instinct. Instead of acknowledging the fact, or Peter in general, he uncorks the wine and pours some for both of them. The pleasant noise interrupts another stretch of silence between them, though it is not as heavy once already broken. Quickly enough, he hands Peter a glass and makes his way to the living room, obviously expecting Peter to follow - which he does.

It can be surprising how quickly the atmosphere between them shifts from tense to comfortable; not long after, they both find themselves in the living room and despite either of them refusing to speak first, the tension previously present seems to have somewhat dissolved which frankly suits Elias just fine. In fact, it’s slowly getting replaced by a familiar hunger that always shows up whenever Peter returns. Once he’s gone on another one of his voyages, he tends to shroud himself so deeply in the Lonely that Elias has no way of knowing what he’s up to. And that lack of information irritates him, gnaws at him as the Eye demands answers. He’s well aware what sort of things Peter tends to get up to but every little detail is important. Who did he sacrifice exactly? How did each of his days look? What did he have for breakfast? Did he speak to anyone the entire time he was there? What did he feel? How deeply?

The questions pile up endlessly and Elias’ gaze grows more intense. All eyes are on Peter now and he subtly flinches before snapping at Elias.

“Stop that! I didn’t come here for you to feed on, Elias,” he turned sharply towards him and furrowed his brows.

“Really? Why _did_ you come here then? You’ve been in London for a while already and just now thought to pay me a visit, did you?” the bitterness in his voice is too apparent for his liking and he presses his mouth into a thin line, though the disapproval hangs in the air between them. Peter’s eyes light up and he raises one finger into the air triumphantly.

“Aha! So you did miss me. I’m flattered, really, but if you wanted me here so badly you could’ve written me a letter! Maybe I’d have indulged you earlier,” a meaningless laugh bubbles up in his chest and Elias narrows his eyes at the idiotic insinuation. He strides over to Peter again and smacks his hand down.

“In your dreams, Peter. I hardly even noticed you were gone. And remind me again, why should I want you here? To track mud on my floors and dirty my furniture?” he consciously keeps his tone of voice clear of any resentment and shoots another look filled with distaste at Peter’s clothes. Without waiting for a response nor permission, he leans up again to tug the dirty coat off him. If he insists on sullying the evening with his presence, he might as well do his best to mitigate any damage to his furniture.

Unsurprisingly, Peter doesn’t protest and simply shrugs his coat off with the help of his guiding hands and does a stellar job at acting like the simple act of being touched doesn’t make him feel like he’s out of his depth. He carelessly lets it drop to the floor with a muffled thump and then pointedly raises an eyebrow at Elias’s outfit. He was dressed unusually, in that he had long taken his suit off and was dressed as casually and comfortably as he was capable of. A rare sight (even for Peter) but then again, he hadn’t been expecting company.

Peter absentmindedly lifted his hand and trailed it along the white shirt strap of his tank top and Elias’ shoulder, who gave no indication that he noticed the action other than standing completely still and continuing to make intense eye contact with him. The only thing he wanted to focus on at the moment was the hunger gnawing at the back of his mind but the coldness of Peter’s calloused hand proved to be distracting. It was grounding and he didn’t have time for that right now; so he grabbed Peter’s wrist and frowned at him. Instead of pushing him away this time, they just ended up standing in the middle of the room with Elias gripping Peter’s hand and looking inquisitively at him.

It’s better when neither of them pays attention to who initiates the first kiss; that way Elias can properly enjoy it when Peter leans down and their lips are pressed together. It takes him barely a second before he licks into his mouth, pouring as much passion as he can into the kiss lest it turns _tender_. He was still holding Peter’s hand but he pays it no mind when it slips out of his grasp and tangles itself in his hair instead. Despite Elias’ best efforts, the kiss feels somewhat mechanical, an imitation of actual desire - Peter does need a while to adjust to human contact after prolonged stays in the Lonely and this is definitely a step up from a regular handshake. Not that it bothers Elias that much; he simply takes the lead for the moment, pushing Peter towards his bedroom. He catches his breath in the brief period of time in which he has to open the door and lead the man to his bed. He seems somewhat more grounded in reality with each passing second, his usually cold eyes filling with more life. Elias likes it when they don’t have to communicate what each of them wants; at least it lessens the risk of Peter irritating him in one way or another. Before Peter can do something stupid like open his mouth again, he’s pushed down on the bed and Elias settles comfortably in his lap and shuts him up. He’s much more enjoyable like this, with his hands slowly and more confidently trailing down his waist and it’s so easy to slip into familiar movements, to bite down harshly on Peter’s lip and delight in the sharp hiss that escapes him as he’s reminded of what the world has to offer. He nearly draws blood and doesn’t bother placating him, too focused on grinding back into Peter’s hands which have now moved to cup his ass. 

Apparently it’s the pain that properly spurts Peter into action as he suddenly leans into their kiss and bites back, his hands flying up to take Elias’ tank top off. Another brief respite has both of them drinking in the sight of each other, Elias admiring how dilated Peter’s pupils are and his spit-slick lips while Peter’s eyes rake over his small frame, noting that his chest was rising and falling faster than usual. Peter grabbed his neck but instead of kissing him again, he simply brought their faces closer, their breaths mingling together as Elias stared keenly into his eyes, looking far too satisfied with himself.

“Is this what your version of “not missing me” entails, Elias? You’d make a lesser man think the exact opposite,” a bland smile forces its way on Peter’s face, the silence broken between them once more. Elias has other things on his mind and instead of engaging with Peter’s idiotic battle of wits, he abruptly pulls at his grey hair, exposing his neck. He may have gotten somewhat frustrated in the time that Peter had been gone but the last thing he’d do is admit to any of it so instead of a retort, he kisses down Peter’s jaw and sinks his teeth into his neck, finding that the surprised pained gasp is much more preferable to his faux politeness. Licking into the mark he hopefully left, he grinds himself against Peter and a pulse of warmth spreads in his stomach. He bites down on whatever groan might escape him as he feels how hard Peter is against him and realizes how _much_ he wants him already. Elias clenches his jaw to suppress whatever noise he may want to make and instead gets to work on Peter’s sweater, tugging it over his head and messing up his already ruffled hair.

“Someone’s eager,” another annoying comment and this time Elias does shoot him an irritated look.

“Don’t make more out of this than it needs to be, Peter,” his hands greedily trail down his broad chest, making sure to scratch him and admire the blooming marks. “You’re insufferable when you get too smug.”

“Ha, is that so? What does that make you in this case?”, he keeps his voice steady as he undresses Elias fully, appreciating any sign that the man is worked up such as his breathing and the clenched jaw which didn’t escape his notice. 

Being the one who’s observed and studied does please Elias and he arches his back subtly as he settles properly in Peter’s lap, his clothes barely folded on the floor. 

“It makes me a delight, as _always_ , Peter,” he puts on one of his most fake smiles and makes sure his words are dripping with venom as he hands Peter lube from the nightstand, saving him the trouble of rifling through the cupboard. He registers the noise of Peter’s belt being undone and pays it no mind as he leans into him again, this time letting a small sigh escape him as he noses at his neck and lets his senses be filled with the familiar smell of sea salt and sweat and something else uniquely his - though he can’t be sure if it comes from being so tightly wrapped up in the Lonely or if it’s just another aspect of Peter. Either way he appreciates it and when he feels the press of fingers against his entrance, he twitches slightly and presses his mouth against Peter’s again, hoping it’ll muffle him. He’s spread open easily enough, sinking back down on his fingers encouragingly and biting down on his lip until Peter pulls back, choosing to observe his reactions instead.

Elias’ hair is mussed up, with stray strands of hair falling into his face and he tries to control his breathing; his lips are red and his eyes more alert than usual. He’s rhythmically pushing back against Peter’s hand, letting himself be stretched open with each new finger but still pretending like he’s barely affected - like this is just a pleasant but otherwise hardly noteworthy distraction. He’s so used to putting on a mask that it’s barely an effort to keep it up even when he’d want nothing more than to properly give in. The only sign he gives is his mouth hanging slightly open when he gasps for breath as the feeling of being fingered open makes his dick twitch already. His eyes flutter closed when Peter twists and curls his fingers, trying to find the spot that makes him tremble and shut up for just a few blessed seconds. A frustrated sigh escapes Elias when Peter pulls out of him with no warning and the smaller man raises one eyebrow at him, pointedly ignoring the unpleasant feeling of being empty again.

“Think you could handle being made to do at least some of the work here?”, Peter asks, though it sounds much more like a command rather than a question. He doesn’t really wait for an answer which is followed by him pushing Elias off his lap, enjoying his indignant squawk far too much.

He huffs at him and mutters out “ _brute_ ”, scrabbling to his knees to regain his balance. Already planning to get back at him, he swiftly settled between his legs and looked up at Peter making sure to stare right into his eyes as he licked his head into his mouth, taking as much time with it as he wished. Peter wasn’t the most reactive or loud person when it came to sex and despite Elias knowing he was good at this, it still irked him and made him try far too harder than Peter deserved. With that irritation in mind, he slowly sank his lips down the length of Peter’s dick, making sure to swallow around it and breathe in as it filled his mouth. He swirled his tongue on the underside of his dick and hummed gently around it; doing his best to get used to the feeling as quickly as possible. Somewhat ignoring his limitations, he moved his head further down and flinched when he felt it hit the back of his throat already. Times when Peter was away for longer tended to make him forget what a difficult task it was to actually fit Peter inside and an involuntary whine escaped him before he managed to get himself under control.

Peter’s breathing had picked up and he apparently found it amusing to twist his fingers into Elias’ hair to help move him along, still not breaking eye contact with the smaller man as he did his best to accommodate him in his mouth. As Elias tried bobbing his head up and down on his length, he let his eyes slip closed and the Eye opened instead. He hollowed his cheeks hoping to distract Peter as much as he could and let the memories flow through him as he saw the Tundra’s impressive size spread out before him, a meager handful of sailors scuttering around the deck, keeping their distance from each other, their heads down and the smell of sea filled his nostrils. A swelling sense of pride and familiarity spread out in his, Peter’s, chest and he drank it all in, barely feeding himself when- He choked properly this time and felt tears gather in his eyes when Peter thrust into his mouth much more violently, holding him in place by his hair and fixing him with a disapproving look.

“What did I _say_ , Elias?”, the faux polite tone is back but he still hasn’t moved and Elias makes another small choked noise, locking eyes with him again though showing no signs of guilt. His cheeks did seem to have a more crimson shade to them as he realized he was unable to hold back the inconvenienced moans; in contrast to Peter’s almost complete lack of noise aside from the occasional contented sigh, it was humiliating to let it show how much more affected he was. So he licked along the side of Peter’s dick again, waiting for the grip on his hair to loosen before pulling back completely. He quickly wiped away the thin string of saliva still connecting them and blinked away whatever tears had gathered in his eyes.

“Just an instinct, _dear_ ,” he spits out, still wiping away the drool on his chain, utterly unsatisfied now that his feeding had been interrupted.

This time Peter is the one who doesn’t grace him with a response, just stares down at him blankly and waits for him to climb back into his lap. Elias does just that even if he’s still irritated, trying to keep the hunger at bay as he lets Peter guide his cock inside him; the stretch still hurts a lot despite the preparations and he bites his own lip as he tries to let himself be filled. His body trembles slightly and he digs his nails into Peter’s arms and lets out a small sigh when he finds himself fully seated on him. The familiar burn and stretch takes a while to turn into pleasure and he lets his head rest on Peter’s chest for a bit before picking up the pace by himself since the other man is seemingly content with just holding his hands on Elias’ hips, making no movement to actually fuck him.

Elias swallows audibly as he tries to angle himself and soon enough the only sound filling the space between them is skin slapping against skin. Peter’s breathing is steady and slow and Elias grows all the more frustrated. It’s like he’s barely there with him, acting like he doesn’t care in the slightest and all of a sudden there’s an unfamiliar feeling spreading out in his chest that makes panic claw at his throat. He can almost feel his body temperature drop, goosebumps along his arms and the only thing he can focus on is how fast he’s breathing and how _horrible_ it feels to be the only person in the room, the only one in his apartment for months, barely speaking to anyone, the utter mystery of Peter’s whereabouts and the complete certainty that Peter hasn’t thought about him even once and out of nowhere he’s choking on it, his breathing picking up and a broken whine manages to rip out of him before the Beholding snaps him out of the fog. He gasps for air like he’s just emerged from water and realizes how searingly hot Peter’s hands feel against him, finally moving and caressing his back, Peter’s dick gently rocking into him and against his prostate and it’s so overwhelming, so much contact all at once after that endless blankness and he can barely find his bearings as he clings to Peter, holding down a shiver as best as he can.

“Bastard,” he stutters out, already doing his best to focus on every point on his skin where he’s being touched, filled, known, letting Peter fuck into him at his own pace again.

“Not fun to get a taste of your own medicine?”, the response rings out between them and Elias looks straight into his eyes as he struggles to meet the speed of Peter’s thrusts, ignoring the burning in his thighs and the still-present hollow feeling in his chest. He grits his teeth and ends up shivering despite his best efforts. He wants to act like it’s not there, like it doesn’t affect him but now the need to know and observe and be present is a thousand times stronger than before and decency be damned, he _has_ to ask.

“Peter,” he whispers, voice surprisingly rough after being touched by the Lonely, “please. Show me. Let me see,” he’s leaning next to his ear, their pace somewhat lazy now that Elias only wants one thing. He’s furious, in the back of his mind, livid at having to ask for any favor when he could rip it out of him and learn everything he ever wanted and more. But that wasn’t how they worked, so he puts his dignity away for a brief second and listens to Peter draw in a sharp breath and suddenly his mind is filled with knowledge, with every memory of this trip, the last image of the person who was carelessly sacrificed to the Lonely, every thought that had gone through their head, everything they were _still feeling_. This time, he throws his head back and moans unabashedly.

He barely even registers it when they’re flipped around and he ends up sprawled out on his back, ankles crossed over Peter’s back as he fucks into him properly this time, grinding his hips against him. His hands shoot out to cradle Peter’s face and he kisses him with passion that’s anything but mechanical this time, muffling his moans with a tongue in his mouth. Elias pushes back against Peter and clenches around him, the heat in the bottom of his stomach growing more intense with each thrust and it’s so easy to lose himself like this, with Peter encompassing him and the flood of memories and information feeding him.

“Do you want to know what they thought? How they felt when you left them there?”, he breathes out, ripping away from their kiss and scratching down Peter’s back as he feels himself reaching his peak.

“Shut up.”

“Do you know who’ll miss them? If they’re still suffering in there?”, he keeps whispering hoarsely into Peter’s neck but this little monologue is definitely not for him; and Peter’s well aware of that. When you know everything, finding out something forbidden is an incredible delight.

Before he knows it, his mouth is clamped shut with Peter’s hand over it and he smiles against it despite looking like a mess, acting far too smug for a man who was keening and whining in fear just mere moments before. He feels much more in his element like this and he reaches down between their bodies to jerk himself off, already knowing those little erratic thrusts signifying Peter is close and he focuses his eyes on the man’s face, watching the color drain back into him and admiring the look mixed with annoyance and defeat he gives him. It’s not long before both of them are coming, with Peter’s hips stuttering and a groan escaping him and Elias coming on his stomach right after, clenching down on Peter as he gets marked and filled even more than he already was. 

The sudden empty feeling after Peter pulls out is never pleasant, only mildly alleviated by the trickle of come that escapes him and marks his thighs, a physical reminder of him actually being here. He lets his head flop against one of the many pillows scattered around his bed and grimaces at the thought of having to change the sheets and cleaning up. Other eyes are watching as Peter sits up next to him, raking his gaze down Elias’ flushed body and the mess they had both made.

“I know I’m pretty as a picture but if you’d be so kind as to bring me a towel, I’d be more than grateful,” he sounds more smug than usual, already pushing out the memory of that single moment of weakness, finding that it makes his chest feel too warm and unpleasant. There’s a shuffle as one of the blankets falls partly to the floor and Peter gets up. He watches him make his way through the apartment, expression unreadable. At least he still remembers where the bathroom is. He wonders idly if Peter will stick around until the morning and finds that he can’t bring himself to care. Doesn’t want himself to care.

**Author's Note:**

> find me @ blitzstones.tumblr.com or @ discord on chuuya#5158  
> send me jonah prompts i've got. a whole lot of thoughts


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